The Church of Evil

Joan Forman was a member of the Society for Psychical Research who spent much of her life researching and writing about the stranger side of life.  (Her best-known book is probably “The Mask of Time,” an examination of the “time-slip” phenomenon.)  Her 1974 book “Haunted East Anglia” included her personal story of the time she and a friend encountered a force that was undefinable, yet clearly malevolent.

In January 1971, Forman moved from Lincolnshire to Norfolk.  Her busy schedule had left her little time to explore her new surroundings, so when her friend Mary came by for a visit that October, the two women decided to go on a brief road trip, with no particular destination in mind.  They drove the quiet roads west of Norwich until they encountered what appeared to be a perfectly charming village.  (Forman discreetly left the place unnamed in her book.)  It was like something from a picture postcard: quaint cottages, a pretty village green, and a fine old church.  They parked near the green and set out on foot to examine the place.

On closer inspection, both women soon sensed something “off” about the village.  The cottages which had looked so appealing from a distance proved to be oddly empty and seemingly neglected.  The streets were deserted.  They sought to escape the brooding atmosphere by entering the church.

As soon as they entered the church, the pair began to feel that things were going from bad to worse.  Forman wrote, “At first, all I felt was a sense of dampness and cold, then I recognised it as something more.  There was an oppressive quality in the atmosphere, and whatever the oppression was, grew as the seconds ticked by.

“I glanced at Mary.  She had ceased looking at pews and floor inscriptions and was standing stock still in the middle of the nave, a frown of concentration on her face.  Our eyes caught and flicked away.

“She said:  ‘It’s not very pleasant in here, is it?’  It was far from pleasant, and was getting less so every minute.”

The women walked towards the chancel, hoping the ominous atmosphere would dissipate.  Instead, standing in the chancel changed the “sensation of oppression” to “one of active and evil hostility.”

Mary couldn’t take it any longer.  She ran down the aisle and out of the church.  However, Forman’s curiosity managed to overcome her fear.  She continued to stand there, wondering what might happen next.  She sensed that with Mary gone, “the full force of the concentration seemed focused on me.  It was quite impossible to stay in the place, and I hurried out after my friend.”

When they were both outside the church, Mary asked her if she had any idea about what had just happened, but, not knowing anything about the history of the village or the church, Forman could not offer any explanation.  “All we knew was that we had experienced some malevolent force.  The fact that it was a church apparently made no difference to its power.”

The badly-rattled women just wanted to get away from the village as quickly as possible.  However, when they reached their car, they got a new shock: the automobile was covered with “a rash of green spots or dropping, the liquid being of a sticky, glutinous substance.

“Had it been red, one would have concluded it was blood.  The drops ran down the windscreen and windows and were fairly resistant to my attempts to wipe them off.”  They had never seen a substance at all like it.

Although Forman’s research into the village failed to give her any insight into what they had encountered, Mary had a simple, if disquieting, answer. 

“I think it’s witchcraft,” she told Forman.  “The county has a reputation for it.”